


Worst Kept Secrets

by Dayntee



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Almost smut, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayntee/pseuds/Dayntee
Summary: Aloth reflects on his rapidly growing appreciation for his captain, wondering when, if ever, is the right time to act rather than contemplate. Urged in part by his alter ego and inspired by the decisiveness of the Watcher, he decides a certain conversation is long overdue.





	Worst Kept Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> As with most of my play-through companion pieces, I took some slight liberties with this one in terms of how the timeline wound up playing out. While the events referenced did happen pretty close together, they’ve been reordered slightly to fit a better, more accurate narrative of the dynamics I imagine in my Watcher’s party as well as to line up with Aloth’s proclivity for privacy rather than what would have been a spontaneous make-out session that would have otherwise happened in the middle of The Gullet. 
> 
> No plans for a direct sequel… I think you all can figure out how the rest of this plays out and fill in the blanks. ;)
> 
> Spoilers for the Aloth romance conversation (duh).

Since the group had returned to _The Defiant_ , Aloth kept replaying the scene repeatedly in his mind. Edér’s panicked face as he realized he may be too late to save Bearn, the resolve and concern on Idralia’s as she reassured they’d chase after the lad, and the relief and genuine gratitude that warmed even the wizard’s oft self-concerned heart. They were traveling the route now, following the bearings a sailor had overheard the Partisans of the Lighted Path mention in port, and the captain was hopeful they might make it in time.

‘It’s just like her,’ he mused, and realized that he was no longer absorbing the information of his latest grimoire acquisition. He had been flipping the pages for several minutes, yet couldn’t recall a single formula his eyes had skimmed. He frowned; these wanderings of his mind, the ever-present distraction of the captain, the painfully obvious torch she carried for him, and the distinct inclination he should do something about them were growing by the day.

 _‘Tha’s because ya aught act in’nead a fiddle fad ‘roun, an ya know it,’_ he heard the echo deep within the recesses of his mind and frowned further. He hated when Iselmyr was right. What was more troubling was that, as a result of having suppressed her outbursts, the few that surfaced now were more accurate and… _thoughtful_ than ever.

“I know,” he resigned to himself, slowly closing the grimoire with a sigh and running his fingers over the edges, a half-hearted attempt to distract himself. ‘But I can’t possibly give her what she would want,’

_“An whas tha? A haus an’ hearth? A stiff drink? Or migh’ be somethin’ ya only handle alone when the lass could be helpin’ ya wit it?”_

“That’s quite enough of that,” he muttered, closing his eyes and pushing the cackling alter ego down, back into the mental partition he’d slowly perfected over years of patience and practice. And yet, she had had a point once more; he hadn’t even bothered asking what Idralia might want. She was hardly a traditional woman and, at the very least, she deserved honesty in this particular matter. It was what she unerringly gave to all and what he was long overdue on returning.

With a deep, steadying breath, he tucked his grimoire into the pack he’d hung from a stray nail next to his hammock before standing, his eyes glancing up the pathway to the captain’s cabin. It was on his mind and it would be until he did something about it. One way or another, this was a dance they couldn’t keep up forever, and he wanted to act on the resolve while it remained.

* * *

He couldn’t help the smile curling across his lips as he leaned in the doorway to her quarters, hands folded in front of him. When she finally looked up to acknowledge his presence, she wondered what secret it was this time he was finally willing to share. As was customary when she gave her full attention, she removed her hat and eyepatch, setting them on her desk, and beckoned him forward. Aloth took the invitation, nudging the heavy door shut behind him.

“For the first time in a long while,” he began, “I feel truly confident in where I’m going. What I’m doing.” The conviction in his voice was refreshing to Idralia’s ears, and she smiled as she turned in her chair to face his approaching form. “With you, I mean,” he added and her heart skipped a beat. It was, perhaps, the worst kept secret that Idralia harbored feelings for the mage. She wasn’t, however, certain as to where they stood and her intensely keen awareness to Aloth’s needs for privacy and space had kept her at a distance since he’d left Caed Nua.

Tentatively, as though she were testing the coldest of waters, she replied, “Me too,” and watched with anxious relief as his lips twitched with a smile.

“You and I have so much in common. We’re both careful with our words. With good reason, of course,” he was moving closer and she suddenly felt paralyzed by his approach. Doing her best to keep calm, she simply kept his gaze, her eyes studying his and trying to glean any hidden meanings he brought to the conversation. It wasn’t without notice; his pace faltered for a moment, and his words reflected it. “And yet you’re decisive where I’m uncertain. Somehow, you know what must be done, and you don’t hesitate.”

Where she would have expected him to break eye contact, he held it, and her heartbeat climbed into her throat. “I admire that,” he concluded, and she felt blush hit her cheeks like a fresh can of paint on a clean wall.

“Well, everything comes down to being truthful,” she shrugged helplessly, as if it were the only answer she could ever offer. Idralia was, if nothing else, honest to a fault, and Aloth’s smile widened further.

“That’s precisely what I mean,” he clasped his hands together. “I don’t know that I could trust myself with the decisions you’re making. My own brief time hunting the Leaden Key has taught me there is nothing enviable about the position you’re in.”

There was his doubt creeping in again. It was as if he couldn’t help it. While she herself was a fan of self-deprecating humor, Aloth practiced self-doubt as devoutly as others did religion. She shook her head. “You give yourself too little credit.”

He gave her a pitying smile. “Whatever my faults, a lack of self-awareness is not among them,” she rolled her eyes at him pointedly, and he stepped closer, little more than an arm’s length away. “Perhaps what I mean is, if we must be caught between the Gods and the Wheel, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

That softened her, and she stood, smiling at him genuinely. “And I’m glad you’re at mine,” it was uttered before she could stop herself, knowing there were so many other ways she could have thanked him for the compliment without added implications. Just as regret began to sink in, it withered at the sight of the corner of his lips twitching in poorly-concealed pleasure.

“That means a lot. Thank you,”

The lack of rejection, of the usual familiar trepidation or distance in his response, broke a flood gate of emotion and she closed the space between them without another thought. Her lips hit his and she knew now she had no other choice but to commit to the moment, even if this was to be the line she should never have crossed.

At first, he froze, surprised by both the sudden movement and physical contact. A fleeting moment of doubt melted in Idralia’s heart, however, as Aloth began to return the kiss. The seconds felt an eternity, his movements slow, but deliberate and soon insistent. Though his shoulders remained rigid and his back tensed, he leaned into her, one hand tentatively resting in the hollow of her shoulder blades while the other brushed lightly through the back of her short-cropped hair. She had never been held so _carefully_ before, and she could tell that, despite the turn of his head and full contact he made, he was still, as always, in doubt.

They parted all too soon (or at least so she believed), and she found her hands had come to rest on his chest, trying her best to hold herself steady. Her lips parted slightly, breathing at a light but controlled pant. His clear blue eyes were full of questions, brows knitted as his pupils skittered back and forth, studying the now fully-flushed Watcher for answers.

“Well, that was… unexpected,” he began, “But not unwelcome,” he clarified, that slight smile grabbing the edges of his lips again. She wanted to join him in mirth, but she was feeling unraveled, vulnerable. Emotions she was both long unacquainted with and seemed only drawn out by _him_.

“I… really care about you, Aloth,” she said carefully, though now it seemed silly to tip toe around the subject. Still, if she was going to lay things bare, then there was little point in mincing words.

“And I’ve come to care for you,” she felt his embrace on her tighten only just so, enough to reassure her. “I’ve always been solitary by nature,” he continued, and a thoughtful frown began to overwrite his features. “It’s been a… relief to let my guard down around you, though,”

The dissonance between his features and his words concerned her; she wasn’t sure she could bear this to be a fleeting encounter between them. Not after so long. Not after everything they had been through and would undoubtedly continue to go through. _I have to reassure him_.

“That… makes me very happy,” again she was careful and methodical with her words, though no less forthwith along the way. She looked down from him slightly, noticing her fingers had begun to grip gently into his robes, and she flexed them as though testing the reality of the situation. His arms sank from around her shoulders, slowly resting his forearms on her hips, hands clasped loosely behind her, and pressed his forehead to hers, urging her to make eye contact with him once more.

“Then I hope you’ll understand where I’m coming from,” he murmured, and she brought her eyes back up to his, giving him her rapt attention. He released the embrace on her waist and took a step back, and suddenly she felt so very cold, as though he’d traveled miles away. “I’ve spent most of my life hiding parts of myself – my name, my identity, my Awakening – from everyone else. I’m not sure I know another way, Idralia,” the use of her name, the rarest of occasions, rang in her ears. No Captain. No Watcher. This time, they were Aloth and Idralia and none of the other events of the world were in question.

“You… You don’t have to,” he turned his head slightly in question, and she elaborated. She crossed her arms, left hanging from his vacancy, and held herself. “I just… want to be with you as you are, whatever that means,” Five years. It rang in her mind again. After five years, she was simply happy she could express her feelings to him in the clearest way possible. “I… always have,” she added quietly, unable to keep the thought to herself.

“After living with Iselmyr for so long, I’ve come to value privacy. The space to think and reflect in solitude,” his eyes roamed her face again, gauging her reaction, and she smiled helplessly at him again. What made him think anything else was going to change?

“It’s not as if I don’t do the same, from time to time. I don’t want to take that away from you,”

“I don’t know where exactly our journeys will take us. Or what will happen when we find Eothas,” his gaze drifted downward to hands that were clasped once more, perhaps hoping to see an answer neither of them had. “And I will have to return to my work with the Leaden Key if we survive this ordeal,” the last statement was firm, stern. She understood immediately how important it was to him. Perhaps another day, she would reaffirm with him that was a task she would be more than willing to assist with. He shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts.

“I don’t want to make a commitment to you that I can’t honor. And I certainly don’t want to deceive you about my intentions.” It was a much clearer statement, and she was grateful for it.

“Then we won’t make demands of one another,” she stepped forward again, though she hesitated as she reached up to gently touch his face, running her thumb across his cheekbone. He didn’t pull back and, in fact, seemed to lean slightly into her touch. At that, she smiled. “Let’s just enjoy our time together – however much we might have.”

He smiled, fully, and her heart soared. “Yes, I like the sound of that,” He barely had the time to finish his thought before her lips were on his again, and he didn’t miss the eagerness in her affections. He let his eyes drift shut and his hands once again wrap around her waist, this time with more conviction as he pulled her close, and the contented sound she released crumbled another barrier within him. The hand on his face dropped to his shoulder, grasping a handful of his clothing, while the other slipped beneath his arm to rest a hand on his lower back.

This embrace proved less reserved, and she took little time before parting her lips and urging him silently to deepen it. He obliged, tilting his head to better align their mouths and allow their tongues to intermingle, relishing the electrical current of their newly explored passion. Her grip tightened on him, her fingers bunching the cloth of his robes, and without either realizing, they drifted together through the room.

Their movement was either leadless or cooperative, though it wasn’t clear which, and only when Idralia’s back met the resistance of the side of the cabin wall did their lips part and the pair gasp for air. Aloth studied her features more closely than ever before, from her lidded green eyes to the kiss-bruised lips that seemed fuller, more alluring.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, and he found her forthrightness, though expected, continually endearing. The smile he returned to her, slight and sly, gave her all the answer she needed, but he kept her hungry lips at bay by pressing his forehead to hers once more.

“Tell me. What is it, exactly, you’d like for me to do?” his question was less an inquiry and more an instruction, and the subtext was agonizingly enticing. Even now, he was _teasing_ her, and his confidence in the situation was reminiscent of his assurance in battle or any other situation in which he knew he had full control. It was him at his best, and it was _for her_.

“Aloth, I’ve wanted this for more than five years. I don’t need anything complicated,”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer,” he asserted before he claimed another of what would be far from their last kiss of the evening.


End file.
